Reflected
by corneroffandom
Summary: For a moment, Alberto Del Rio sees himself in his opponent.


It happens quickly. Too quickly. Distraction from that weird Zeb Colter, watching out of the corner of his eye as Ricardo inches back towards the commentator's desk, where he thinks he'll be safer from Zeb, Alberto trying to keep his attention on the match. But he's trying to string some offense together when he hears something like a body getting thrown into steel, and glances over his shoulder and... Ricardo is gone, the ringside area looking disheveled in some way. Forgetting his opponent, he looks around desperately along the floor for his friend. "No, no, where-" His words die away when he spots him getting dragged away by Swagger by his shattered ankle, but Cesaro is trying another attack and... He spins, kicks him brutally in the skull before slipping out of the ring and, moving quickly, balances awkwardly on the barricade wall over where Swagger has just swung Ricardo's bad leg, landing a solid strike of his own that sends the "True American" away from his best friend.

Swagger tries getting away but Del Rio follows him towards the exit, knowing that he can't leave Ricardo behind, especially while he's in so much pain- again-, so he stops at the exit that Swagger is stumbling towards, slinging things at him before hesitantly walking back towards the barricade wall where he'd left his ring announcer. He's almost afraid to see what he'll find when he reaches where the trainer is now examining the younger man, settled in an office chair with his bad leg stretched out on another, but swallows down his reluctance, knowing that Ricardo needs him. He kneels down by the ring announcer, alternating between talking to the trainer and trying to keep his best friend calm, when he realizes that Cesaro is still in the ring, and... _The match._ Its end result doesn't really matter to him right now but the longer he stares, the more he sees Cesaro from when Ricardo had been introducing him, trying to make his way to the ring despite his present physical limitations, and... Cesaro had been laughing then, and is laughing more now.

Eyes locked on the Swiss' mocking expression, Ricardo's cries and whimpers echoing in his ears, for a wild moment, he sees himself as he had once been, relishing in people's pain- broken arms, destroyed pride, ruined careers... none of it had mattered to him, he'd just been pleased to further his own career no matter what the cost may be for those unfortunate enough to be his opponents. It disgusts him, reminds him of how far he'd fallen after leaving Japan and Mexico to try his hand in American competition, his greed for the World title eating him alive, destroying his every moral. Until he'd woke up one day mid-December and found himself with a ring announcer who seemed scared to even be in his presence for too long, no match on the TLC pay per view, and... he'd just known he needed to make a change.

And he had, and it'd paid off fruitfully. Ricardo seemed to like spending time with him again, not dreading any kind of physical or mental torture, he was world champion, and he actually _liked_ himself once more, not finding it disgusting to be in his own skin. Now, however, all of the bad in his past is recalled, rubbed in his face, as Cesaro continues to mock his poor ring announcer. He pats Ricardo a time or two more, trying to ignore, move past, be there for his friend but the vision of Cesaro laughing, pointing, taking pleasure in the poor man's agony, continues repeating in his mind and finally he can't stand it any longer. Lunging to his feet, he's inside the ring within seconds, bashing the Swiss down and locking in the armbar. But it's not Cesaro he's seeing, it's himself, twisting and tearing at his arm until finally he releases him and kicks him away, returning to his feet and looking down at his best friend, still struggling against the pain as the trainer examines his ankle.

He closes his eyes for a moment, blinks up at the lingering Wrestlemania sign when he reopens them, and sees it- his future, where the path he's on is leading him- away from the horrible man he'd been and to who he wants to be now, World Champion heading into Wrestlemania with his best friend by his side celebrating his retaining his title belt... Not even glancing back once at Antonio Cesaro still laying on the mat, he leaves the ring and rejoins Ricardo, cupping his hands as the trainer talks to him, still examining his ankle carefully. The road, he's sure, will be long, but he will not waver. Not this time.

He won't become _that_ man ever again.


End file.
